


Losing Control (Could Be Worse Than This)

by RetroactiveCon



Series: Praying That It'll Be You [28]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Drugs, Injury, M/M, Metahuman Shenanigans, Mind Control
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:21:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24234220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RetroactiveCon/pseuds/RetroactiveCon
Summary: For some reason, Hartley laments, the team thinks of him whenever they hear of a meta with mind control. They seldom send him out alone—whether because they think he’s vulnerable or because they don’t trust him not to seriously injure someone, he isn’t sure. In this case, that means being carried by Barry until they reach the bank where the mind-controlling meta is causing chaos.
Relationships: Barry Allen/Hartley Rathaway
Series: Praying That It'll Be You [28]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1562548
Comments: 9
Kudos: 53





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SliceOSunshine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SliceOSunshine/gifts), [Warren_Pace](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Warren_Pace/gifts).



> So, chapter 1 is for SliceOSunshine, who asked to see if Barry and Hartley ever helped each other out in fights with the meta of the day, and chapter 2 is for Warren_Pace, who asked for high Hartley.

For some reason, Hartley laments, the team thinks of him whenever they hear of a meta with mind control. They seldom send him out alone—whether because they think he’s vulnerable or because they don’t trust him not to seriously injure someone, he isn’t sure. In this case, that means being carried by Barry until they reach the bank where the mind-controlling meta is causing chaos. Barry sets him in the doorway, which is reasonably sheltered, and runs in full-speed. Later, Hartley is going to chide him for that, although he knows his reasoning; the flute music travels, so there’s no need for him to be directly visible to the meta.

“Put the nice lady down.” Although Hartley doesn’t have a direct line of sight, he can picture Barry’s stance: arms held out, crouched a little to downplay his height. Vulnerable. As much as he wants to start playing right away, Barry had asked for a minute to try to talk the meta down. Considering there’s mind control at play, nobody on the team thought it was wise, but Barry would feel guilty if he didn’t try. “Let…let her go. Whatever you’re here to do, it doesn’t need to be this way.”

“No,” the meta agrees. “But it’s more fun this way.” 

Barry gasps. “Wh-what are you doing? Let me go!” 

So much for convincing the meta to stand down. Hartley raises his flute to his lips. Before he can play a note, it slips from his fingers and lands with a hideous clatter on the tile floor. Rather than pick it up, he finds himself walking into the bank. Fighting the urge to walk causes his steps to become uneven and lurching, but it does nothing to stop whatever control the meta has over him. 

The scene in the bank chills him to the bone. The meta has a bank teller trapped against the counter holding a gun to her own head. Barry is frozen in the middle of the room, his arms held comically high in exaggerated surrender. 

“We have a problem,” he hisses, hoping against all good sense that his comm is still active. His panic increases to near-choking levels when he’s forced to bend down and scoop up a gun fallen from a security officer’s hand. 

“It’s a shame you didn’t bring your other friends,” the meta says, apparently to Barry. “I’d have loved to make you tear each other apart.”

“No.” Barry wriggles against whatever force is keeping his arms in the air. When he turns to face Hartley, it’s not of his own volition—the movement is jerky and slow, like Hartley’s forced steps. “No, no, no, you don’t have to do this. If you haven’t killed before this, trust me, that’s a line you don’t want to cross. Whatever reason you have to do this, it’s not worth it.” 

Hartley struggles against the urge to hold out the gun. It’s useless. His arms extend, pointing the gun directly at Barry’s emblem. He can’t do this. How can he look at his sweet boy in such danger and not have the strength to resist?

Hartley’s finger tightens on the trigger. At the same time, a startling amount of things happen at once: a breach opens and a dart flies through it to embed in the meta’s neck, the power holding Hartley in place disappears, and his panicked attempts to point the gun downward become terribly effective. The muzzle doesn’t just point down; his arms draw in close to his body and the muzzle flips almost completely around. The inevitable gunshot strikes his thigh just above his knee. 

“Hartley!” Barry bolts over to him and scoops him up before he can hit the floor. Hartley drops the gun and clings to him. He didn’t shoot Barry. That’s all that matters. Barry is safe. 

“I was going to shoot you,” he whispers. 

“No, no, no, shh.” Barry kisses his brow. “I’m gonna get you back to the lab, okay? Caitlin will take care of you.” 

Running with a fresh wound is exquisitely painful. When they skid to a stop in the Cortex, Hartley is so lightheaded he fears he’ll either pass out or vomit. He screws his eyes shut and drags in deep breaths that do nothing to steady him. 

“Oh my God!” Caitlin’s voice. Hartley flinches away from the noise and buries his face in Barry’s chest. “What happened?”

“He got shot.” Barry carries him to the cot. Hartley clings to him even when he tries to step back. “Hart, I have to go get that meta before he wakes up, and you have to let Caitlin take care of you. I’ll be back in a flash, I promise.” 

Reluctantly, Hartley nods. As soon as Barry is gone, Caitlin steps close to him, syringe in hand. “It’s going to hurt when I remove the bullet,” she warns. “This will help.” 

“No.” Drugs mean being vulnerable—unsafe. He can’t take care of himself if he can’t think clearly. “I’m fine, it’s—ow.” The needle sinks into his skin. There’s a subtle but foul taste at the back of his mouth; then his head swims and he has to settle back into the pillows. “I’m just dizzy.”

“Give it a second,” Caitlin promises. He’s almost too dizzy to think of how ominous her warning sounds.


	2. Chapter 2

Barry stays at the bank just long enough to ensure the newest meta is placed in power-dampening cuffs and seen off with the metahuman task force. As soon as he’s certain there’s no threat to anyone else, he bolts back to STAR Labs. On the way, he retrieves Hartley’s flute from where it lies in the entryway. Hartley will be glad to have it back (he hopes). 

When he returns to STAR Labs, he finds Caitlin in the midst of stitching Hartley’s leg. She gives him a look that promises certain death if he comes any closer. “You can stay in the Cortex until I put bandages on him.” 

To distract himself, Barry changes out of his suit, showers at superspeed, and runs back to the Cortex in his civilian clothes. When he looks down and his shoes have caught fire, he remembers why he shouldn’t do that. “Can I come in now?” he asks in between stamping out flames. 

Caitlin glances up, sees his still-smoking shoes, and makes an expression as though his clumsiness has taken years off her life. “Yes, I suppose.” As she steps out of the room, she lowers her voice and adds, “He’s high.” 

“I can hear you,” Hartley mumbles. “And hi.” 

Barry stuffs his fist against his mouth to keep from bursting into relieved laughter. He has a vague memory of being drugged up on Bliss and saying something similar. He’s pretty sure Hartley had kissed him for being ‘adorable.’ Come to think of it, kissing Hartley sounds like the perfect idea right now. He can’t forget the image of Hartley’s horrified expression giving way to a twisted kind of relief as the bullet hit him. Kissing him until they’re both breathless might be the best way to remind himself that they’ll both be all right. 

“Hey, Hart.” He ducks around Caitlin and perches on the edge of the cot at Hartley’s side. Hartley’s eyes drift aimlessly side to side. Only when Barry pets his face is he able to focus, albeit somewhat hazily, on him. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Hartley murmurs. He manages a sleepy smile. “You’re really pretty.” 

“Yeah, well, you’re not so bad yourself.” Barry musters a weak smile. If Hartley is up to flirting with him, he’s probably fine. Besides, he trusts Caitlin to have taken good care of him. All is well. (If only his racing heart would get the message.) 

“No, not…not just ‘not so bad.’” Hartley raises a clumsy hand to Barry’s cheek. Barry reaches up, cradles it, and holds it tightly in place. Unexpectedly, Hartley bursts into tears. “You’re so pretty,” he confesses, his voice watery and wavering. “I’ve never been allowed to touch anyone this pretty before.” 

Barry coos. “Oh, Hart, you can touch as much as you want to. I’m your sweet boy, remember? You can touch me as much as you want.” 

Hartley’s eyes widen. “You’re…you’re mine?” he asks with such reverence that Barry wishes they were at home, away from prying eyes. “You’re so pretty and you’re _mine_?” 

“Mhmm.” Barry leans down and presses a gentle, lingering kiss to Hartley’s brow. Hartley’s hand presses clumsily into his cheek, as though he’s trying to hold him in place. “You’re so sweet,” he murmurs between more kisses. “You should never have gotten hurt, and that’s on me for the way I led us today, but you’re so brave and sweet and I just want to keep you safe.”

“You’re here,” Hartley murmurs peacefully. “I’m safe.” 

Barry’s heart breaks. He wants to say no—he was careless in the field, and it almost got both of them killed, and somehow despite wanting to do the right thing he still gets his team hurt more often than Thawne-as-Wells ever did—but Hartley is so sleepy and content that he can’t bring himself to say the words. They can talk about it later, once the medication wears off. For now, he gives him another kiss. “Yes, you are. I’m gonna keep you safe.” 

“You’re my sweet boy,” Hartley whispers. “I remember that. I remember how much I love you.” His brow furrows. It seems like it takes an effort for him to recall, “Always. I love you always, even if your feelings are too much.” 

“My feelings are too much,” Barry agrees. “But it’s okay. I want to just let you be drifty for now…and maybe tell me more about how pretty I am.” It’s a distraction. In part, he doesn’t want to make Hartley deal with the guilt he feels over the failed mission, given that he was the one who suffered most. If he does manage to talk about it, he doesn’t want it to be now, when Hartley is too hazy to comprehend. They both deserve to be clear-headed if they’re going to help each other through what happened. 

“You _are_ pretty.” Hartley’s drugged sincerity makes him giggle. “You’re pretty and sweet and mine. My boy. My Barry.”

“Good, you remember my name.” Barry kisses the tip of his nose. “I was afraid you were too out of it to know who I was.”

“I remember you.” Hartley’s eyes drift off to a point over his shoulder. “Everything else is too cloudy.”

“It’ll come back later,” Barry promises. Thinking back to his time on Bliss, he coaxes, “Enjoy it while it lasts. You’ll have some really weird memories later.”

“Like kisses?” Hartley struggles to sit up and only manages to flop around in bed. 

“Like kisses,” Barry agrees. Because it’s clearly what Hartley wants, he leans down and gives him another kiss. Everything else can wait, he decides when Hartley leans into the kiss and mashes his nose into Barry’s cheek hard enough to hurt. He might as well laugh at Hartley’s drugged-up antics while they last.


End file.
